I Would Have
by bemusedbicycle
Summary: Killian is told he is going to die. Emma refuses to acknowledge it and won't let him say goodbye. Established relationship Captain Swan – takes place in the future.


He sits quietly on their bed, staring out at the water from the large bay window. His hand traces absent patterns on the bedspread and he sighs deeply.

So this is what it feels like to know when you're to die.

He idly thinks of the plan he initially had for this evening – the specific question he wanted to ask to a specific blonde. He thinks of the carefully worded speech he had memorized in his head, the list of reasons why she should say yes.

Not that it matters now.

He hears the door open and close quietly, her careful footsteps against the hardwood floor. She slips into the room and shuts the door behind her, taking a place next to him on the bed. They stare at the water together.

"Where have you been?" He asks and her fingers find his.

"Taking care of some things." She replies easily and he notices the slight waver in her voice. The dark part of him wonders if she was setting up funeral arrangements but he banishes the thought as quickly as it comes. "I'm here now."

"That you are." He hums and suddenly she's climbing over him, framing his face with her hands, knees landing on either side of his hips.

"You're not going to die." She says with ferocity and he can tell by the set of her lips, the lines on her face, that she believes it. She's never told him a lie, and right now she's making an oath.

But this is an oath she can't possibly keep and his heart squeezes at the thought of abandoning her – however unwillingly. His lost girl, always left behind. "Emma-"

She cuts him off with her lips on his, desperate and needy. He gives in to her easily, letting her body mold against his, his hand running up her back to tangle in her curls.

Her teeth nip at his lips as she pushes him back flat on the bed, her fingers pulling roughly at the sides of his shirt. It tears with a loud rip, buttons flying across the room. Her hands smooth against the bare skin of his chest and she mewls against him, rutting against his hips frantically.

He grabs her hip with his free hand, slowing her movements. She grunts in frustration and he sits up abruptly, wrapping his arms tight around her back and lifting. He places her on the bed as his lips find her neck.

"Slow down." He whispers and she pushes up with her hips, fighting him still. He chuckles against her neck and she sighs heavily, body going limp beneath his. "Let me love you."

He makes love to her slowly, carefully, peeling each article of clothing off of her with reverence, sucking tenderly at each inch of exposed skin. He memorizes her with his lips as she pants and arches beneath him, fingers tangling in his hair.

She whimpers when he enters her and he savors the sound, pressing his hips flush to hers. He lets his eyes consume her, the way her skin flushes, the way she bites her lip.

It will never be enough.

After, when they lay sated, tangled in the sheets, her blonde hair spilling against his chest in a platinum waterfall – she leans up on her elbow. She looks at him carefully and he traces the apple of her cheek with his thumb.

"You're not going to die." She repeats.

He wishes he could believe her.

-/-

She grips his hand tight as they follow her parents to the clearing in the woods – the open field where the wizard awaits them. He tries to soothe her, telling her without words that she will be alright, she can do it without him, but she's having none of it, avoiding his gaze like the plague. Regina pauses abruptly at the edge of the clearing. She turns and quirks an inquisitive brow, hands clenching and unclenching.

Emma grips his hand harder. He peers down at her and she bites her lip, finally meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry." She chokes.

And then he feels it, the sluggish tension in his shoulders, the numbing coldness twisting through his limbs.

_No._

"What have you done?" Comes David's anguished whisper and Mary Margaret falls before them, eyes closed in sleep.

Regina falls behind her, and then Robin, trying in vain to grab for Regina. Killian slumps forward, Emma's arms coming to brace his fall as his eyes search hers. They're still clear and green and he knows what she's done.

"No." He grinds out as his knees fall to the forest floor and he fights the effects of the poppies. Emma gives him a tight smile, fingering a lock of hair against his forehead. Her hand cups his face and she looks so sad.

"I would have said yes." She whispers and her voice breaks against him, shattering him into a thousand pieces. And in that moment he hates her, he _hates_ her so much because he _loves_ her. He loves her more than anything in the world – loves her like he does the sea – wild and temperate and pure and _gods above_ – she would have said _yes_.

It isn't fair. It never is with them.

His eyelids grow heavy and he tries to grab her wrist. She evades him easily as she rubs her thumb against his jaw, across his bottom lip, the sweet taste of her skin overwhelming him and pushing him further down. "Emma, please – " He whispers and she just shakes her head, a solitary tear cascading down her cheek.

Sleep takes him.

-/-

The dangerous thing about poppies is that they play at your basest desires – they put you in a dream that you don't _want_ to wake up from.

He is sitting on the deck of his ship, back flat against the mast, Emma tucked neatly between his legs. She's humming lightly as the sun descends over the water, picking at the denim over his knee. He is utterly content and yet –

"Stop thinking." She mutters and she turns her head slightly, brushing her lips against the skin of his throat. He smiles and shifts behind her, pulling her tighter against his chest.

"I'm not thinking." He responds and his eyes drift closed. She snorts.

"Well, that's nothing new."

He tickles her ribs and the most delightful sound leaves her as she squirms against him. He relents and she relaxes, fingers tangling with his. He is at peace – on the open water with Emma, her blonde curls caressing his face in the gentle wind. He squeezes her hand and lets his mind wander to the _other_ delicious sounds she makes – the ones where he's moving against her, above her, legs spread and –

His entire body jolts, pain lashing at his chest. His eyes widen as he struggles to breathe, lungs not able to get enough oxygen. Her face tilts up to meet his frantic eyes and she gives him a shaky smile, threading her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and bringing his face closer to hers. He can see the tears in her eyes, the way they make the green sparkle.

"Tick tock." She whispers against his ear.

-/-

He wakes to screaming.

It's loud and piercing and it tears at his heart - the honesty of it. He blinks open his eyes and stares up at the gathering clouds, confusion ebbing at his mind.

Emma.

_Tick Tock_.

He sits up fast, head spinning, eyes searching. They find her immediately (because he is a moth and she the flame and he is drawn to her _always)_, blonde curls bright against the brown grass of the field. Fear grips his heart and he struggles to his knees just as Henry bursts from the woods behind them, long legs tearing him across the field.

His feet carry him to her in a daze and a ragged gasp is all he can manage as he takes her in – still and unmoving, covered in blood. He doesn't even notice the still body beside her – that of the wizard, face contorted in a silent scream, eyes black and hollow.

"She said goodbye." Henry responds to an unheard question, pressing his hands over her abdomen. His voice is thick with emotion and his brown hair covers his eyes – having seen far too much for a boy of 16. "Yesterday, she said goodbye. I didn't realize before – "

His voice drifts off on a whimper and he moves his hands more frantically against her.

"But I'm her true love." Henry whispers and he presses down harder, eyes tense in concentration. There's blood, _gods so much blood_, seeping through his fingers and his jaw is set, clenched tight. Regina tries half-heartedly to pull him off of Emma, but he refuses, squaring his shoulders and curling his body overtop his mothers.

Killian falls to his knees by her head, hand shaking as he touches one of her blonde curls. She looks quiet – peaceful – her skin so pale. _Too pale_. Something is clawing at the inside of his chest, rising hot and terrible inside him. He can't do this again - he can't do it _without_ her. A feral and animalistic sound leaves him – a whimper combined with a growl - sucking the air from his lungs as he tips his forehead against hers.

_You're not going to die._

His rage is all-consuming.

The familiar sparks of Henry's magic begin to fly around them as the boy whispers to himself, rocking back and forth on his heels. His fingers spread and push over the gaping wound on Emma's stomach, the blood smearing like paint. Tears fall down his cheeks like rain and he whimpers, magic growing and thrumming - like a living, breathing thing.

Barely allowing himself to hope (unable to stop himself, she has instilled it into his very being), Killian tilts his head down, lips falling to her ear. He begins to whisper a steady litany against her – desperate promises and frenzied oaths. Some thinly-veiled threats and insults of her stupidity are slipped in for good measure and he so _badly_ wants her to sit up, arch her eyebrow like she's done so many times before - maybe even smack him.

He aches with it.

Henry falls back, breathing deep, the light of his magic extinguishing at once. Killian stares down at Emma with wide eyes, heart beating out a staccato against his chest.

She doesn't move.

He counts his breaths. Mary Margaret sobs a broken sound. A storm gathers overhead.

And because Emma can't possibly do anything as expected, because she must spite him even in _this_, she doesn't wake. But her fingers do twitch and her pulse is light and barely discernable in her neck and there is shouting and then they are running, Emma limp in his arms. Her blood stains his shirt and seeps through to his skin, branding him with the brutality of this fear.

-/-

They gaze at each other silently, his fingers tapping out an uneven rhythm against the hospital bed railing. Her lips tilt down slightly at the no-doubt murderous expression on his face and she sighs, rolling her eyes upwards.

"Well, that was a bloody stupid plan."

Her eyes flit back to his and if he didn't love her so much he would want to smack that smirk right off her face. That being said, he's torn between the desire to verbally berate her and kiss her senseless.

"I told you that you weren't going to die." She rasps and he arches an eyebrow at her in response.

"You failed to mention that _you_ intended to."

Part of him wants her to deny it – that she didn't go into that field with the intention of sacrificing herself. That she had no desire whatsoever to leave everyone behind – leave _him_ behind. But she's never told him a lie (apparently _has_ omitted large portions of the truth, though) and he sincerely doubts she'll begin that trend now. He grits his teeth and clenches his fist, staring at her hard.

"Don't you ever do that again." He orders and she sighs, entire body deflating.

"Killian –"

"No, don't bloody _Killian_ me, I am in no mood." He swallows hard, blood thrumming. "Do you have any idea – any inkling – what it was like to see you like that? To think that you were dead? I was covered in your blood, Emma. Your _son_ was covered in your blood."

Her eyes go hard at that, the fight in her rising to the surface. "I've gotten this speech three times already."

"Well, I think it bears repeating." He spits and she winces. He looks down at her legs, willing himself to calm. "How could you –"

He swallows unevenly, irritated with his inability to control his emotions. "How could you do that to me?"

The anger leaves his body in a rush as he fingers the edge of her blanket, leaving him exhausted. The words echo around them in the small, sterile room, the truth behind his anger and hostility revealed. He's still reeling from it – still aching with the open wound of her betrayal. He feels as if he's been torn apart with it, nerve endings raw and exposed.

It had been so easy for her to leave him behind.

Cool fingers hesitantly touch his and he looks up into green eyes, bright and sad at the same time. "I was saving you." She whispers and her hand slides with intent along his. She touches the large ring on his pointer finger with a contemplative frown. "I went to see Gold after he told us – about you. I knew he was hiding something. He told me that you were going to die _protecting _me - god damned stubborn pirate." She snorts and rolls her eyes and his lips tilt up slightly. But he pushes his amusement down because he is mad, _damnit_. "I did what I had to do to protect you." She sighs and tilts her head. "There is no me without you."

Her voice is soft and while years ago she would have shook with the admission, her eyes darting away from his with the weight of her words – she's different now. She's confident in her love for him, and he in his love for her. He tangles their fingers together.

"Aye, and there is no me without you." His thumb slides over the needle taped carefully to her hand. "We've been over this before, lass."

"Okay." Her voice is small as she nods. "I'm sorry."

He nods at her, shuffling back and forth at the side of her bed, scratching at his hair roughly. A yawn catches him by surprise, rattling his entire body. She smirks at him in amusement and shifts in her bed.

"Come here." She whispers.

He slides into the too-small bed next to her, careful of the thick bandages around her middle. But she either doesn't feel the pain or doesn't care, because she turns on her side and pulls him against her back. His nose buries itself in her hair and he breathes in deep, letting the comfort of _Emma_ heal the pain of the past few days.

They lay in silence, taking one another in. His body tenses as he suddenly remembers something – a dim memory of whispered, tearful words right before the poppies took him.

"I don't appreciate your acceptance of my proposal – operating under the belief that you intended to _die_. Doesn't give a man much confidence, love." He grumbles it into her hair and she snorts in his arms, pulling him tighter against her back.

"How about you ask me this time." She replies on a laugh and her smile is like sunshine on his heart – colors dancing beautifully in the light. He grins into her, lips stretching against the skin of her neck.

"Perhaps I won't." He replies airily and her laughter increases, body shaking deliciously against his.

Her fingers lift his hand, sliding the large ring with the blood red jewel off his finger. She pushes it onto hers – far too large and ostentatious for her slender hand. But he never was one for subtlety, especially when it came to her.

"Tough shit." She mutters and he chuckles against her warm skin. "You're stuck with me."

He sighs, entire body relaxing against hers.

"Good." He replies.


End file.
